Work Text:
There's a high, pulsating ringing in their ears.
SYSTEM OVERHEATING. COOLDOWN SYSTEMS ACTIVATING.
It's stupid. It's a stupid idea, a stupid thing to do - everything about this reeks of idiocy, and yet Zelkie can't find it in themselves to complain or stop anything that's happening- not right now. Maybe another timeline, another reality- but that isn't today or now, not really.
The insistent beeps scratching at their ears, tearing at their sensors do not relent, and neither do they. The multiple WARNING displays pop up in their field of view - Zelkie closes their eyes. Ignore it. Ignore it. And they do, of course; that increasingly insistent screeching in their audio sensors that continues although they try their best to pretend they don't exist. Elation, the hedonism and the thrill and the want for what they cannot have, runs deep in their nonexistent veins - and they run with it, letting everything go its course.
This, though-
This is not what is meant to happen. Zelkie gets the nagging feeling in the back of their mind that by doing this, they are defying something - walking against fate and hoping the gods will answer when the shout out. And yes, yes-
Fighting against fate, perhaps, is the job of a Fool. They take their responsibilities in stride with the next signal that pops up on their screen as the fans installed inside their workings start to buzz insistently, repeatedly. Oh, this is stupid - this is stupid. And they keep doing it anyway, of course. (Hedonism. The thrill. What would they be if not that?) The fact that they can feel their functions slowing and blurring probably isn't the best of signs, but Zelkie never was one to listen to what they were meant to do. No, no - they're sticking with this, they think, as their vision blinks and scatters and fades into fluorescent lights and then quick to black.
PLEASE STANDBY. PLEASE STANDBY. PLEASE STA- ST- SSSSSSTTTT-
"Zee," says an insistent, mildly annoyed - but more entertained than that - voice. "Zee. Wake up!~"
Sparkle.
The Intellitron's systems finish their impromptu restart as their sensors begin to light up again, the strip LEDs on their body beginning to glow faintly once more.
POWER ON.
They curse how their systems can't seem to stop stating the obvious, and swipe away the notification, choosing instead to focus on the brown-haired girl still staring dead into their eyes. "You're back!" The Fool beams that probably-fake beam again, and then with her endless bounds of energy, proceeds to lean back away from where she was hovering directly over their face. Zelkie takes the opportunity to blink, disoriented, and make eye contact with Sparkle.
"What did you do?" they ask, a frown finding its way onto their face. They're not annoyed, not really, but did that have to happen?; they get the feeling it was intentional, really, and Sparkle's light giggle doesn't help with that at all. "I didn't give you access to my systems for you to just click the power button." They hear another light giggle from her, and accept it - their systems now are finally fully booted up, the fans in their chest compartment whirring slightly to cool down whatever heating happened from the sudden burst of power used. So Zelkie shuffles back so they're sitting upright, and glances around to take everything in again, to add it to their glitching memory module.
This is their ship, of course; more like a flying minivan than anything else, as Sparkle told them once, before dubbing it Hysteria. That's the name it goes by in their systems now, although it's hardly official or anything - just registered as Model 157A, Serial Number 5-XX9017. Hysteria, really, but they pretend to find that name more amusing than an actual term to refer to it to.
Fake it till you make it!, they think, their optics (tiny sensors, dotted in the plates that make up their 'eyes'), flashing bright luminescent colours in the dim lighting again. Sparkle is sat staring at them with her wide pink eyes, that inscrutable expression still on her face as it always is. Smiling in an almost theatrical manner, and somehow setill looking-
Zelkie shakes their head.
RESET COMPLETED. WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE?
YES / NO
"Me?" she asks, giggling lightly. Zelkie feels faintly nauseous, or they suppose they would if they had a concept of nausea. Whatever it is, it feels what nausea sounds like - that's for sure. "I didn't do anything?~ I thought you wanted me to mess around a bit." And, well, they did, but instead of admitting that they fix her with an unamused look. (Or, the best they can do with their metal face and the cheerful smile painted messily onto it. Cheap, black paint. They could have gotten something better, but that's half the fun of it - and plus, if it works, it works. It hasn't chipped away yet.)
Sparkle half-runs the back of her fingernails down the front of Zelkie's chest compartment again, looking more inter, pink nail polish chipping slightly against the metal of their body. They'd shiver, if they could. If they had nerves, perhaps, or if they weren't so sure that every emotion they fetlt was fleeting and pointless and not real.
(Ah, Aha would be proud of them.) What a stupid thought.
CONTINUING. ATTEMPTING TO RECONNECT. LOADING... LOADING...
Their stupid systems. They were meant to get an upgrade the other day, really, but- They figured it would be fine if they didn't. (Actually- it was scheduled for today, but they delayed it because of Sparkle.) In hindsight, that was a stupid idea. In hindsight, of course she wouldn't have played along and had it all work out the way they wanted it to. But, really- isn't that part of the thrill? Isn't this just the fun of it?
Her eyes are nice, when they look at them properly. Fluorescent pink, with that pale butterfly in them. Her eyeliner this time is neater than it was last time. Zelkie's not surprised, really, all things considering.
"Can I do your eyeliner this time?" they had said, sprawled out over their bed with Sparkle lying next to - or on top of, really - them, limbs splayed haphazardly around without a care in the world.
She giggles, and and then started cackling in such a Sparkle-esque manner that they can't even complain. She leans her head back, using their side to support it, and then giggles again in a lackadaisical sort of way. "Sure," she grins, then tips her head back slightly further and grins. Somehow, she bends her neck so far back that she manages to make eye contact with them. (Or she would, if they had eyes, and not simply two metal plates where their eyes should be, would be. But- that's close enough. Right?)
Zelkie arranges themselves so she's sitting up slightly, and attempts to grasp for the box underneath their bed. Sparkle laughs airily again, and they feel something that resembles a flush of dopamine. Their systems heating again. (Another error in their coding. Another mistake. As if they could feel anything that resembles true emotions, in the manner they wish so much.) So they give up with that, manage to wriggle closer to the side of the bed so their arm can reach underneath and retrieve the box, and then pulls themselves back up.
They're leaning over Sparkle, arms bracketing her, and she doesn't seem to care whatsoever. That grin of hers - it never really changes, they think, and perhaps there's something good about that. Something nice about a thing that never becomes any different.
(What a stupid idea. She's changing all the time - different masks, different realities, different faces. A fleeting idea, though, never hurt anyone.)
Red eyeliner. They take the brush, test it out on their finger. It still works, judging by the red that spills onto the metal of their finger, not soaking in, sliding off in beads. Sparkle raises an eyebrow slightly as she looks up at them, still arranged messily on top of their covers. "Are you going to hurry up?" she hums, kicking her legs absently as Zelkie leans over her still. "Or do you want to keep me waiting for aaages? C'mon, Grey Hair is faster than this, and they're always running around doing something or other random."
For a moment, Zelkie feels vaguely sick, but they're being stupid. They don't have internal organs anyway, so even if it wasn't a stupid concept - it'd still be ridiculous anyway.
Sparkle is sickly sweet. Like when you have too much Halloween candy, Zelkie supposes, if they'd ever had Halloween candy, or if they had taste buds. Sickly sweet in that way where you want to keep eating more anyway, even though you know it's getting too much and you're going to throw up in the sink soon.
Zelkie keeps coming back.
And so they draw the tip of the brush as carefully as they can just underneath Sparkle's eye. She barely looks entertained, and again they feel a touch nauseous - again. (That's wrong. They're imagining it, they know, but it feels- wrong all the same. It feels real, so real for something that's not true, that isn't possible.) The brush continues in a sweeping line under her eye, as they try to copy how it usually looks as much as they can. It doesn't quite work - perhaps they can see the exact calculations, the predicted lines and strokes of the paint, but their hands are shaking.
Another error in their systems. They assume the crash that happened earlier has something to do with it - a miscalculation in the booting up of their processors, maybe.
def miscalculation()
print("error found.")
if "sparkle" == TRUE:
print("unsurprising.")
endif
"It's done."
It doesn't look good, not really. Not nearly as good as it is when Sparkle does it, but when the girl sits up and examines her face in the mirror, she seems happy enough. (The nausea fades, and the heavy, thick weight in their metaphorical stomach releases.) "Eh, not too bad," Sparkle says, and a smile pulls at Zelkie's face, "for a beginner, at least. You'll improve," she shrugs lightly, which is- surprisingly constructive of her, if nothing.
...huh. Whatever. They're no longer entirely convinced this is Sparkle, but they're still not complaining.
Sparkle flicks their forehead.
"Stop zoning out. Earth to Zelkie," she sighs, even though Earth is a vague concept to both of them. The sort of thing that turns up in fairytales, rather than anything else, but the saying is used often. (They themselves said it once around- that man from the Astral Express. He looked surprised - but they suppose they didn't really think about it that hard.)
After a pause, they respond. "-Right," they nod, before glancing at Sparkle, who looks distracted. "You have somewhere you need to be."
Sparkle grins after a second. "The Express is going to Planarcadia for the Phantasmoon Games!~ You should be there, really. It's going to be awfully fun, I just know it." And then she scowls - "or, it'd be more fun if it weren't for that annoying white-haired brat - but I'm sure you'll help with that, right? You wouldn't leave ol' Sparkle out on her own?"
Zelkie sighs. "You sound like Sampo."
"Don't be mean. That's harsh, even for you."
The Intellitron crosses and uncrosses their arms once more, and then exhales slowly. "-ok, sure. I'll help you." Sparkle nods approvingly, and by the next time Zelkie blinks, she's gone after they open their eyes.
The silence in the room is palpable, now, thick in a way that could be cut with a knife. They push themselves up, and go to stand at the window and look out. The moon of the planet they're currently in a lazy orbit of hangs in the sky, suspended and spinning slowly, Zelkie's spaceship in its own orbit like a silver satellite rotating around the planet. Bavelli-3, it's called, apparently. (They heard there were Stellaron Hunters seen on this planet not too long ago, but it's not the job of a Fool to care about that. They doubt it was particularly funny, anyway.)
They'd say it's lonely here, but they're pretty sure they don't have a sense of that.
"sparkle" = TRUE
miscalculation()
for i in range(∞):
begin program z.